Battle with the Bass

The Head of the Storm Falls Daily wasn't exactly happy with how things have been.

The Electric Bungalow. It's been causing weird things to happen, or at least that's what most people believe. Not just here apparently, but around the world as well.

Each and every single person of a content creator has been trying to get their hands on the golden nugget that is the Bungalow, the source of mystery, intrigue and downright weird. Personally I wasn't into that sort of thing, not really involved in looking for the news.

Instead I was more interesting in editing and proofreading each and every single article the Daily puts out, because the last thing this English speaking nation needs, is a bad example of how not to use English.

"Carl!" the head calls out my name loudly. "In my office, please." he said the 'please' in a slightly lower tone. I can tell he didn't really mean it, seeing how he's hotter than a stove being turned all the way. "I appreciate you for all the editing you've done, but as I'm sure you know, we're still far from understanding the Electric Bungalow."

"Two of our reporters haven't been, well, fine. Tristan for one, was stuck in a cloud after apparently lightning struck him in the butt!" I nearly laughed at that as the Head spoke. "As for Chris, well, he couldn't come cause he and his cousin Quentin got heavily injured. I checked, they got stung by at least a hundred hornets, if the medical report is that accurate. Which brings me to the conclusion, I need your help at covering the Electric Bungalow."

"What about the editing?"

"I'll have someone else do it. Now I know what you're thinking. 'I haven't been out getting news in a while boss', well don't worry about it, cause I got an anonymous source claiming to be one one of the regular visitors for the Bungalow. I need you to meet this man at the Solar Club."

"What would he want to meet at a place like that?" I asked.

"Probably cause he wants a drink waiting for you? I don't care, just get there." the Head said as I packed up my things and went to the club.

As I arrived there, the place seemed quiet. Inside, it was equally quiet. I saw a DJ getting his set up. Granted, night was gonna arrive soon and clearly people will fill up the place.

At the bar, I saw a man sleeping on the counter, his head resting on it. This must be the contact.

"Excuse me sir." I said to him. He didn't seem to wake up. I shook him a bit until I saw his lifeless eyes, and his deflated head.

"What the-" I muttered as I began to pick up the sounds of the music blasting in the background. Looking around me, there wasn't anyone except the DJ and myself.

"Hey man, turn it down-"

The DJ didn't listen. The guy with the oracular shaped glasses had his headphones on and was increasing the volume of the music. Even with my hands covering my ears, the noise still went inside my head, hitting my brain. The music, damn dubstep it was, starting to go lower, but then it started to take a few beats every 2 seconds, almost rising.

The DJ 'dropped the bass', and I felt a large force hitting me everywhere. I felt fluids in my brain, slowly coming out of my ear. I turned to the side to see blood.

"Stop." I tell the DJ, who I think noticed, shook his head. I slowly fell onto my knees clenching my heart now which felt the booming of the music.

One last whisper went through my ear before I saw black: the Electric Bungalow is to be left alone.